


The Things That Matter

by Ghostie



Category: Old Kingdom - Nix
Genre: 1000-3000 words, Birthday, Family, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-20
Updated: 2009-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 18:41:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostie/pseuds/Ghostie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lirael realizes that even though the Disreputable Dog is gone, there are still people that care about her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Things That Matter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Juxtaposie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juxtaposie/gifts).



            Lirael put her paintbrush down, cursing quietly when the brush dripped ink on the table. She wiped it away with a rag and squinted at the painting in front of her. It didn’t look like a dog. Not one bit. She turned the paper sideways and wondered where those extra legs had come from. Perhaps it was a squid? And the snout was crooked. Lirael sighed and painted halfhearted magenta scribbles in the background, which didn’t resemble much of anything. The fading light left the room’s colors gray and dull anyway; she hadn’t bothered to light a candle yet.

            A hesitant knock broke the room’s silence. She glanced at the door to see Sabriel framed in the doorway, a slight frown etched into her features.

            “Really dear, is it even light enough to see in here?” Sabriel mused. She strode to the unlit taper on Lirael’s desk, and twisted her hand over the wick. A faint blue flame, unwavering and cool, sprang up. Sabriel turned to face her half sister. “So, your birthday is next week.”

            Lirael made a noncommittal noise and stared at the shadows the candle had cast across her desk. Was it really? Somehow she’d forgotten. After all, it had only been a month since she had been facing the end of the world. Birthdays hadn’t been high on anyone’s priority list.

            “…and Ellimere was very enthusiastic about having dancing bears or something of the like, but honestly that seems…” She paused, then brushed her hand against Lirael’s shoulder. “Are you alright, dear?”

            Lirael realized she hadn’t been paying any attention whatsoever. “…bears?” she mumbled.

            Sabriel frowned again, and seemed to notice the dog-squid hybrid painting for the first time. “Lirael…” she began.

            Lirael stopped herself from wincing. “I’m fine,” she said brightly. “Bears are lovely. I’m sure Ellimere’s plans are flawless. All right?”

            Her half sister sighed. “All right. I’ll tell her.” She left the room, with a bit less purpose than she had entered with.

            Lirael slumped, watching her go.

~*~

            “I suppose this is normal for people your age, sulking.”

            Lirael blinked.

             Mogget sat on her desk, his tail swishing impatiently. “Nevertheless,” the cat continued, “It’s supremely tiresome.”

            Mogget had reappeared in the castle a few weeks after their battle with Orranis. When asked why he had come back, he’d declared that the Abhorsens, hopeless as they were, wouldn’t have known what to do without him. And there were fish to be had, those were important too.

            Lirael sighed and started cleaning up the paint. “I’m hardly sulking. I’m fine. Sprightly. Whatever you want to call it.”

            The cat began to pace, ignoring her. “You’re in denial, that’s what.”

            “Denial?” she asked.

            “Yes, denial. Ever since you saved the world and Nicholas went back to Ancelstierre you’ve been huffy.” The cat’s yellow eyes narrowed. “_Depressed_ even. And it’s driving your poor sister into a dither.”

            Lirael bit her lip. She supposed she had been more than a bit morose with Sabriel. “I didn’t mean to-“ She cut herself off and reached over to pet the cat. “I just miss.. people, I guess.”

            Mogget’s eye twitched. “By the charter, you saved the world and you’re all moony over a _boy_?” he yowled.

            She pulled her hand back, scowling “What do you mean, moony?”

            Mogget apparently didn’t think the question dignified a response. He glanced at her painting. “Are those tentacles?”

            Lirael snatched the picture away and put it on the mantelpiece. She exhaled and sat down on her bed, absentmindedly stroking the down comforter. She didn’t look at the cat. “It was supposed to be a dog, I guess.”

            The room was silent except for snatches of errant birdsong trailing from the window.

            “Ahh.”

            And suddenly Mogget was perched in her lap, his fur warming her chilled fingers.

“She’d want you to be happy, you know.” He paused for a moment to rub his ears against her arm.  “And of course, she’s not really gone. No one like her could ever be really, _truly_ gone.”

            Lirael felt her eyes blur as she scratched his ears, at which point Mogget began to purr like any ordinary cat would.

            He was prickly at times, but his fur was awfully soft. And awfully warm.

~*~

            On Lirael’s birthday, the castle was radiant with light and music, so bright and joyous that the stones almost glowed. In the ballroom, anyone who was anyone took a turn in the dances. There were seven dancing bears also, ostensibly one for each of the great charter mages. Lirael privately wished there had been eight, but supposed Mogget wouldn’t have been amused by a bear in a top hat anyways.

            The ball had began two hours prior. After the necessary niceties had been made and the proper courtesies observed, Lirael had snuck up into one of the balconies that overlooked the ballroom. She hadn’t really needed a huge state function for her birthday. In fact, she already had no idea what to do with the dozens of lacy parasols given to her by concerned nobles, all terrified that her delicate skin would be burnt in the sunlight. Sabriel had muttered that she was lucky they didn’t know her dress fittings or they’d have piled her with heaps of pink organza. And then the two of them had laughed, trying to imagine sloshing though death in some mountain of lace and rosettes, a bell in one hand and a parasol in the other.

            Now, she smiled as she watched the festivities. It was a far cry from birthdays past, with too-big blue tunics and disapproving looks. She was curled up on a plush settee, with Sabriel lounging by her side. Glancing sideways at her sister, she took a deep breath. “I’m sorry if I’ve seemed dejected lately. I just…well, you know.” she said awkwardly.

            Sabriel nodded, seemingly understanding anyway. “I understand.  I’m here for you.” She said.

            Lirael smiled and continued. “And I really do appreciate… all this.”

            Sabriel grinned good naturedly. “I’m sorry for all the fuss,” she said, waving her hand at the crowd. “Ellimere was adamant about it. She felt your feelings would be hurt with anything less than a nineteen course dinner.”

            Frankly, Lirael wouldn’t have minded a three course dinner with ten people, less dancing, and fourteen fewer parasols. But at the same time the fact that these people cared so much made the rest seem irrelevant. This was the family she had craved as a child.

            So she laughed and hugged Sabriel. “It’s quite all right, really. I’m just happy to be here with everyone.”

            Because no matter how much some of the nobles made her twitch, there was still Sameth and Ellimere, Ryelle and Sanar, Touchstone and Mogget.

            And of course there was Sabriel.

            Her sister hugged her back tightly. “And we’re happy to be with you,” she murmured. “We love you so, so much.”

            And that, Lirael realized, was really all she needed.

 

 

 

 


End file.
